


Brothers on a (Vibrating) Hotel Bed

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-07
Updated: 2006-09-07
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sex. In a motel room. How very plotty.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** Brothers on a (Vibrating) Hotel Bed  
 **Author:** merepersiflage  
 **Pairings:** Sam/Dean  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Category:** PWP  
 **Word Count:** 3700  
 **Summary:** Sex. In a motel room. How very plotty.  
 **Warnings:** incest, graphic m/m sex, language  
 **Disclaimer:** Yeah.  
  
  
  
From the road, The Senator Motel’s two stories looked so badly in need of paint that Dean couldn’t believe the guy was charging that for a night, but trying to burn a corpse in a grave rapidly filling with muck from a sudden downpour had left Dean too goddamned tired to shop for a better rate. Not that it was going on his tab anyway.  
  
The only first floor room available was a king, which Dean hoped would give Sammy-the-spider-monkey-bed-hog enough room because he was too tired for anything but sleep.  
  
“First shower,” he called as he opened the door.  
  
Sam dropped his duffle in front of him, and while he regained his balance, Sam breezed by him on the way to the bathroom.  
  
“Fucking bitch.”  
  
“You know, I think I earned first shower when you pulled me down into a foot of mud.” Sam turned in the bathroom doorway, blocking the entrance.  
  
Dean could totally take him, but he was just too tired to fight over the damned shower. He sat on the bed. If the owner wanted to charge those rates, he could put up with mud on the covers.  
  
“It was an accident, bro. Ya think I wanted your five hundred pounds sprawled on top of me?”  
  
“One eighty.” Sam huffed.  
  
“Still more’n me, you freak of nature.”  
  
Dean slumped back, started and stared. The handsome bastard grinning down from the ceiling was him. He sat up and looked at the room again. The Senator was _that_ kind of a motel.  
  
The bedspread was a black and white tiger print, the headboard covered in puffy white satin and damned if there wasn’t a little machine to make the bed vibrate on the nightstand.  
  
Dean suddenly wasn’t that tired anymore.  
  
“Uh, Sam—” he called just as he heard his brother’s deep, “Dean?” from the bathroom.  
  
He pushed off the bed. The bathroom sported at giant heart-shaped jacuzzi and a shower big enough to wash his car in—and Sam. Naked Sam with chin tilted up in that invitation that never failed to make Dean want his dick in him somehow in 60 seconds or less.  
  
“I think there’s enough room to share.”  
  
Dean’s clothes hit the floor. Then the water hit his back, pounding away the mud, his chest hit Sam’s and Sam with water pouring from him was too much to resist and Dean hit his knees.  
  
He had a few perfect moments of being able to fit all of Sam in his mouth until his brother’s cock thickened and filled, forcing his jaws wide, making him back off a little, his hand covering what his mouth couldn’t anymore. He leaned back enough to give the head a good swipe with his tongue. Sweet water, a little soap, and Sam’s skin. He tongued the slit, looking for more of Sam’s taste.  
  
He heard the smack of Sam’s fist against the tiles and backed all the way off, sitting on his heels. Sam had dropped the soap so he reached around him to grab it.  
  
“What are you doing?” Sam’s voice was clear over the sound of falling water, and only a rasp of breath to suggest that Dean had just had his lips on his cock.  
  
“That’s a boy. Get a mouth on your dick and you can’t remember your own name. It’s called a blow job, Sammy.”  
  
“No. I mean why did you stop? And fifteen fucking minutes ago you were bitching that you were too tired to drive.”  
  
“Heh. Well, I might be feeling a little more awake.” He scrubbed the mud out of his hair and off his face.  
  
“Might be, huh? So I’m back to why did you stop?” Sam swung his hips forward.  
  
Dean pulled away, and Sam grabbed at his head. Dean jerked free. “Easy, buddy. I just wanted to fill you in on my plan.”  
  
“Your last plan had us balls deep in muck.”  
  
“This one’s better.” Dean tipped his head under the water to rinse off.  
  
“Let’s hear it.”  
  
Why Sam always tried some lameass attempt at dignity when he was buck naked and hard as a drill bit was beyond Dean. But it did amuse the ever loving shit out of him and made it so easy to tease him.  
  
“I figure I’ll blow you until you scream. Then you can crawl to the bed and I’ll fuck you until I scream.”  
  
“Dean.” Sam flapped a hand at the jacuzzi.  
  
“The bed.” Dean breathed on the wet head bobbing eagerly in front of him. “Has a mirrored ceiling.”  
  
“Vain bastar—”  
  
There was never really any doubt about Sam going along with his plan. Less than none when Dean stretched out his neck and mouthed Sam’s cock. Sam finally shut the hell up and pushed forward.  
  
Dean was still holding on to the soap and used it to slick up his fingers. From the sweet sounds and disgusting suggestions coming from his brother, Dean was pretty sure Sam was gone, lost in the needs of his body, but when he looked up—all the way up that shiny, wet, hard skin he saw Sam watching him.  
  
“Oh fuck, Dean. You . . . fuck . . . your eyes . . . your mouth, so good . . . gonna fill it right up . . . fuck.”  
  
Dean grabbed the soap again. He reached around Sam’s hips and slicked the crease of his ass with one finger before sliding the tip right into him.  
  
It killed him every time. That desperate moan that seemed to grind at Sam’s throat. That tight heat, that squeeze, knowing just how all that muscle was gonna feel when it was his dick in there. It all made the pump of blood in his cock suddenly painful.  
  
Sam’s hands were on his head now, not grabbing, just touching, those long fingers cradling the base of his skull as his other hand as the other drifted to rub at his cheeks and jaw. And yeah. Dean knew how that felt, when you pressed in on his cheek, knowing that was you right there. He knew that knee-buckling mix of possession and wonder that you were inside and it was so good and someone wanted you in there.  
  
Sam’s legs started to tremble, and Dean moved his free hand up to gently tug at Sam’s balls while working his finger deeper.  
  
There was another crack against the tiles. Since both Sam’s hands were still on his head, their grip even tighter now, Dean knew it had to be his head.  
  
He started to pull off to ask if he was all right but Sam grabbed his jaw hard enough to hurt and muttered, “If you stop now, I’m going to kill you.”  
  
So he didn’t. Sam was falling over him, bent and straining, pressing Dean’s neck into his back, begging to come. Dean slammed another finger inside him and fucked him until he thought Sam would knock them both unconscious against the tiled walls.  
  
Sam jerked free of Dean’s mouth just as he started to shoot. _Fuck_ Sam knew goddamned well he’d rather swallow a mouthful of come than get a faceful of it. Sam’s ass clenched tight around his fingers and he wasn’t going anywhere so he just closed his eyes and held on. But he was pissed that Sam’s sudden desire to paint his face forced him to close his eyes and miss him coming. He fucking loved that look on Sam’s face. Then he remembered the mirror and smiled.  
  
“Happy, there, Sammy Spunk, porn star?”  
  
Sam smeared his come over Dean’s lips with his thumb. Dean pushed up to his feet.  
  
“I love your mouth.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks.” Dean stood and washed himself under the spray for a few minutes, trying to ignore what the fucked out look on Sam’s face was doing to both his dick and his suddenly racing heart.  
  
Sam was still leaning against the wall when Dean shut off the water and grabbed a towel. It was bigger and softer than he was used to and as he scrubbed it over his head, he took back everything he’d thought about the outrageous rate he’d paid for what he’d thought was a dump. He stepped out. “Uh, comin’, Sam?”  
  
“Ha fucking ha.”  
  
He looked back. Sam was still leaning against the wall. There were a few things he needed to get ready first anyway.  
  
 

* * *

  
  
Damn he felt good. Dean’s mouth was just fucking made for blowjobs, and he knew how to use it to make every single muscle feel like Sam’d just spent a hour soaking in the jacuzzi. If it weren’t for this nice sturdy wall, his wobbling knees would already have sent him to the floor.   
  
“Sam?”   
  
He opened his eyes. Dean was right in front of him. He blinked.   
  
“You fell asleep on me, didn’t you?”  
  
“Huh? No.”   
  
“Liar. C’mon.”   
  
Sam pushed off the wall and took the towel Dean handed him, trying to scrub himself back to life with the rub of the towel.   
  
The covers on the bed were turned down, revealing sheets a startling shade of black. _That certainly made hiding stains a lot easier._  
  
Sam staggered forward and collapsed into the inviting softness.   
  
“You fucking bastard.”   
  
“What?” Sam murmured sleepily, turning his head on the pillows. “I thought this was the plan, remember, me crawling into bed? Knock yourself out. See you in the morning.”  
  
He could hear Dean sputter behind him and hid a grin in the pillow.   
  
“Fine.” Dean’s weigh sank the mattress next to him.   
  
Sam was prepared for a little abuse, perhaps a little attempt at seduction, but he wasn’t prepared for Dean’s hands to suddenly dig into his shoulders.   
  
Rough hands worked at his muscles, a hard deep massage, and Sam found himself relaxing at the same time that other parts of him started waking up. He was just about to roll over when he felt Dean’s tongue lick a path down his spine. He tried to hide the sudden tension of his muscles, because if Dean was going to work for it, he could definitely get a little something more than a quick fuck out him.   
  
Dean’s mouth was wet and sloppy on his tailbone, and then his teeth nipped at his ass and he couldn’t control a flinch.   
  
“I’m trying to sleep here, man.”  
  
“Yeah? Go right ahead.”   
  
Dean’s tongue was teasing the top of his ass, and Sam wasn’t going to be able to hide how much he was not sleepy if he _oh, shit_. Yeah, that was going to make it a major challenge. He bucked up as Dean’s tongue worked lower.   
  
“Shhh. Go back to sleep, Sammy.”  
  
“Fuck you.”   
  
“I thought you remembered the plan. Try that again.”  
  
His tongue was right there now, Sam’s back was arching, and he couldn’t stop stretching for that wet tingle. He bit the pillow.   
  
“What’s the plan again, Sam?”  
  
Dean really needed to be using his tongue for other things that being a teasing jackass. Just now he was using it to tease right around the rim, laying it flat on the tight skin between his ass and balls and   
  
“Sam?”  
  
He spit out the pillow. “Okay. Fuck me.” He turned his head back into the pillow to mutter, “And I’m the control freak.”  
  
Dean’s laughter, holy fucking shit, there, and then his tongue was doing what it should have been an hour ago and Sam’s hips were grinding into those smooth black sheets.  
  
Wet, wriggling pressure, and the rub of the sheets underneath him and if Dean didn’t stop and fuck him soon it was going to be all over again.   
  
“What part of ‘fuck me’ didn’t you hear?”  
  
Dean shifted behind him, his legs settling outside Sam’s.   
  
“Doesn’t this position kind of defeat the purpose of a mirrored ceiling?”   
  
“You drivin’?”  
  
“Fine.”   
  
Sam slid his knees up and Dean pressed him flat into the mattress. And okay, so Dean really was driving. He buried his face in the pillow.   
  
The thick wet kiss of slick, hot skin against him and then fuck, did he forget the lube? Because damn, he could feel his spine try to ripple itself down, like it was trying to help him ease back onto . . . he arched away, and Dean pulled him back and this time it was fine. Better than fine. He needed . . . “God, move, please, Dean.” He tried to arch again. “Fuck, now.”  
  
Dean’s chest vibrated along his back as he moaned and worked him in quick short thrusts that were nothing like what he needed.   
  
He tried to shove his hips back but Dean stilled them with a bruising grip, the angle of his chest forcing him down into the mattress. Fuck, driving was one thing but he wasn’t about to just let him . . .Now what the hell was he doing? Shifting forward, fucking _lifting_ him on his cock and   
  
“Hold on.”   
  
_To what?_ Sam wanted to ask, and Dean had an arm around his waist and was rolling them onto their backs  
  
So, that was different. He felt more pinned open like this than when Dean was nailing him to the mattress, but he wasn’t complaining. He had control of the speed and angle now and shifted to try to get Dean just where he needed him.   
  
“Sammy, open your eyes.”  
  
He didn’t ever really know they were closed until Dean spoke and then he opened them. He shut them again, immediately.   
  
“C’mon, Sammy.” The pleading note in Dean’s voice made him open them again. It was fucking embarassing. It was fucking hot.   
  
Their bodies stretched and tangled on the black sheets. Dean’s more furred but lighter thighs braced outside his own darker ones. Dean’s arm around his waist, his blunt fingered hand reaching for Sam’s dick. His dick, god, it was so dark red it was almost purple, the head slick and shiny. Dean’s hand closed around it, the sight as hitting him at the same time as the sensation and they both groaned. He rocked down on Dean’s cock and watched his brother’s face, watched his lips open and the flush spread along his cheeks.   
  
“God, Sammy, you look . . . damn.”   
  
He couldn’t watch his own face, it was too much, but Dean, Dean’s tongue on his lips, Dean’s hand on his dick, yeah, that he could watch. He rocked up and down again and driving the sounds out of them, making Dean’s eyes flutter shut for an instant before they were back open, dark and wide, sweeping up and down the length of the mirror.   
  
Dean’s other hand went up and out of view and then the whole bed was shaking.   
  
“What the fuck?”  
  
Between the noise of the bed and the panting breaths tearing from both their lungs, Sam almost couldn’t hear Dean’s answer.   
  
“One of those uhhhhnnn vibrating things. Remember once . . . Montana.”  
  
“Jesus fucking Christ, Dean.” He could hear the break in his voice.   
  
“I’m not moving.”  
  
“I know.” Because the vibrations were fucking him, fucking his ass, fucking him everywhere. They poured through Dean’s hand on his dick, tingled his nipples, his lips, his spine. And when he moved, when he pressed down onto Dean he swore he could feel him right up through his rib cage.   
  
“Sammy, god, are you close?”  
  
He watched his brother’s face, knew how close he was getting. He rocked harder, thrusting down onto his cock, up into his fist and the bed shook them both. It was hard to watch their images now, bodies blurring in the mirror, but he could feel Dean’s other hand land over his heart, saw the flash of his ring as he held him.   
  
“Almost, I need, gimme . . .”  
  
And Dean dug his heels into the mattress and rocked up just as his thumb swept over the head of his dick and that was going to do it.   
  
“Fuck yeah, just like that.”   
  
So Dean did it again, and this time he didn’t stop. He pounded up into him, and Sam had to find something to hold onto and he dug his nails into Dean’s thighs and that had to be killing him but he just kept slamming up, just like Sam needed him to.   
  
“Sammy, please, c’mon I can’t . . .”  
  
Like he wasn’t fucking trying to beat him there. He rocked faster, harder, then Dean got just the right pressure under the head just as his teeth sank into his shoulder and Sam’s release hit him with a full body slam, the first shot of spunk landing on all the way up on his neck. Dean moaned, but his teeth never let go of his shoulder, kept right on jerking those sweet perfect spasms out of him.   
  
He knocked Dean’s hand away from his dick to finish himself off. “Go.”  
  
Dean grabbed him around the waist and rolled them again, fucked him into that still shaking mattress, burning thrusts against his tightening muscles, his hands on Sam’s shoulders as he arched into him and came on a long gasped “Fuck.”  
  
Dean pulled them onto their sides and he could feel Dean’s heart slamming against his back just as he realized the vibrations had stopped.   
  
“That was close,” Dean murmured in his ear. “Sucker only goes for fifteen minutes. I didn’t think you’d ever come.”  
  
“Yeah. Well, consider what little I had to work with.”  
  
Instead of the outraged _fuck you_ he’d expected, he got a big yawn, complete with a little drool breathed onto his neck.   
  
“Uh, still in me, Dean.”  
  
“Well you’re tight and I’m tired. Go to sleep, Sammy.”  
  
Sleep? With Dean’s dick in his ass? Dean’s arm was heavy on his ribs. But it was nice. A pleasant warm weight. Nice like the still tingling full sensation in his ass. But could he really fall asleep like this? Dean was already breathing slow and steady in his ear. While he was still thinking about it, he drifted off.   
  
 

* * *

  
  
Dean opened his eyes. His neck was stiff—and that wasn’t all. Yeah, his dick had woken up a while ago, cradled in moist heat and as soon as the rest of him caught up he was rock hard and aching like an overworked muscle. And he’d never thought he’d think that about his dick, but yeah, around Sam—without Dad or anyone else around to curb things—his dick definitely saw more action than he could have imagined in his wildest wet dreams at fifteen.  
  
He shifted and it just got better and worse. How could Sam _not_ wake up? He didn’t think he’d created such a uhh insignificant feeling. And then Sam gasped and he felt a little less ignorable. Despite the ache, his body wanted him to move so he did, rocking forward, his dick just barely able to find a way past that tight clench. He flexed his hips until he was almost out and pushed back hard. That time Sam let out a pained moan, and he froze.   
  
The bedside lamp was still on, so he looked up into the mirror. The sight of all that warm bronze skin on that black sheet was better than any porno flick he’d ever seen. Sam’s eyes were closed, screwed shut, teeth biting hard on his lower lip.   
  
_Fuck._ “Sam?”  
  
Another whining gasp. Please let that be a feels-good gasp. He lifted Sam’s leg and thrust again. This time there was no mistaking the look in the mirror for anything but pleasure. Sam’s lips rounded and his eyes relaxed. The top of his cheeks turned dark red as he shoved his ass back against Dean. His hand came up to spread across his own thigh, those long fingers pressing deep enough to dent the muscle as he held it high, pushed it back over Dean’s. Sam’s dick rose against his stomach, blood staining it dark like his cheeks.   
  
Dean worked his hips faster, harder, Sam arching back to meet him.   
  
“God, Dean, there.”  
  
In the mirror above them, Sam’s face softened. His eyes fluttered, mouth going wider, neck arching, and he was fucking beautiful like that. Anger tore at Dean’s gut, irrational anger at everyone who’d gotten to see that look on his brother’s face those missing years, every one of those gasps and cries that should have been his. He’d loved giving this to Sam, loved it from the first time Sam had worked himself against him till he came, that same melting, surprised look of pleasure on his face.   
  
Sam’s body squeezed his dick, a relentless pressure that had his balls lifting and filling too damned soon. “Come for me, Sammy.” He wrapped his arm around to milk Sam, his thumb finding enough precome on the head to slick the way to jack him with quick, twisting strokes.   
  
“Now, Sammy.” He arched back and slammed forward.   
  
Sam pulled his leg higher over Dean’s, giving him the room he needed to pump faster, deeper. Sam’s voice broke, shattered into gasps.  
  
Dean watched Sam’s face in the mirror, watched his dark eyes peeking through those thick lashes, watched the color spill from his cheeks over his neck, his lips form the barely heard words, _Fuck, Dean, there, please_.   
  
The sight pushed him over the edge. He came like he’d swallowed a live wire and was shooting it out through his dick. It burned, made his hips stutter, but thank god, Sammy spilled over his fingers with a groan Dean could feel more than he could hear. Sam’s neck twisted back on his shoulders till Dean thought he’d snap it.   
  
When there was nothing left but sticky bodies and heavy breaths, Dean eased out and rolled to his back. He watched Sam’s chest rise and fall in the mirror. “Whadya say we make this place home for a day or two?”  
  
“All right.” Sam turned onto his belly. “But tomorrow, we’re doing it in the jacuzzi.” 


End file.
